Drowning in Cliche
by TheMechanaGnome
Summary: A series of BW fics written for a 100 Themes Prompt List. Contains: Gay robots, swearing, cliche plot devices, and the occasional songfic.
1. 001 Introduction

"And dese're yer quarters!" the gold and silver Maximal rat finished with a flourish, tapping a passcode into a keypad. "Dat concludes yer guided tour a' th' Axalon, will dat suffice or should I pull up th' ship's blueprints fer ya as well?"

Dinobot rolled his eyes as the sliding doors wooshed open, revealing a mostly empty chamber, only a berth, a desk, and a black laptop inside. With a glance inside, he grunted and returned his attention to his diminutive tour guide. "That is quite all right, rodent. I can pull up the ship's blueprints any time I wanted in the command center. However, I trust that I am able to change the passcode on the door to something of my own choosing?" he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and arching an eyeridge.

The Maximal just smirked and shrugged, his expression far too flippant for the warrior's liking. "Sure, change it as many times as y'want, lizardlips. Triple encrypt it, fer all I care. Don't mean dat we can't get in if th' need arises, but if it makes y'feel betta', go fer it."

"So, I am to be given the illusion of privacy without actually having it then, hmm?"

The rodent shrugged. "Not my idea. Optimus wants ta be sure he cin trust ya, but until den, he wants ta be able ta keep an eye on ya." The rat smirked then, crossing his arms over his chest and cocking his hips to the side. "Consider yerself lucky, Shredderhead. I wanned ta rig yer room up wit' security cameras. Optimus almos' agreed ta it, but Rhinox convinced 'im I'd abuse 'em." He snorted, following it up with a tilt of his head that suggested a roll of his optics. "As if I'd wanned ta watch a 'flithy piece a' Conware jack 'imself off."

Dinobot wasn't sure what offended him more; the rodent's casual attitude towards his privacy, the implication that he indulged in self-stimulation, or the thought of someone, specifically the short, irreverent mouse, watching him through a camera while he was... hrmmm.

Crossing his arms over his chest, the Saurian rolled his optics and scowled down at the... the ivermin./i He was called Rattrap, wasn't he? For Primus's sake, they hadn't even been formally introduced, what with all the chaos from Dinobot's sudden change of faction and the day's battle. And the damned Maximal had the gall to make lewd comments and insult him at the same time? It was outrageous! It was infuriating! It was...

Intriguing. He must have cracked his head against a rock awfully hard somewhere throughout the course of the day to even consider it, but he couldn't deny it, the rat was... attractive. And his bold, unrepentant attitude got the warrior's gears turning, anger and lust tainting his thoughts. He wasn't sure he wanted to backhand the miniature mech, or tackle him to the ground and show him just what a Predacon was capable of.

"What? Don' gimme dat look," the vermin snorted, taking Dinobot's glare and lack of a verbal response for disapproval. "Ev'ryone's played wit' demselves once or twice, an' anyone who sez otha'wise is eitha' prudish or naïve."

Both. Most definitely both.

"For your information, rodent," the warrior growled, ignoring Rattrap's protests of "hey, I've got a name!" in favor of giving him a little shove. "I have never had a need to self-stimulate. I am a warrior! I do not have the time nor energy to waste on such foolish activities." When the rodent looked ready to protest again, Dinobot pulled his lips back into a snarl and shoved harder, forcing him back against the wall. "You try my patience, you miserable, lecherous, incorrigible little wretch!"

Despite the rough manhandling, the rodent's look of smug perversion stayed firmly in place, daring Dinobot to push one more inch. "So don' encourage me," he leered, pressing his servos against the wall and leaning forward, one eyebrow arched. Primus, but the warrior wanted to smack that grin off his face!

But he mustered up every ounce of control he had and reigned himself in, responding to the challenge with a sneer. "I do not have to explain myself to you, vermin. Now, if you are quite finished, you may scurry off to whatever mousehole you crawled out of, and leave me alone."

"Now, if you will excuse me," he rumbled, schooling his voice into a mild, unaffected tone. To the rat's disbelief, he dropped into a graceful bow and backed into his quarters. As the doors slid shut, he lifted his head, smiled his smoothest, most charming smile, and crooned, "I bid you good day."


	2. 002 Complicated

For all his insistence that he wasn't interested in watching "a filthy piece of Conware jacking himself off," Rattrap made an obscenely large amount of lewd comments on the matter. Quite regularly, and in front of the rest of the crew, in fact. Dinobot wasn't sure he liked the attention too much, but as time passed, he realized that he wasn't the only one subjected to the vermin's perversion. Innuendo, sarcasm, and sass were the only things that ever left his lips, and though he did his best to ignore it, the warrior found himself caught up in a senseless argument with the rat that quickly dissolved into petulant name-calling more often than not.

Even stranger, he found that he didn't care. The verbal battles, such that they were, were hardly a tax on his wit, and when things turned physical, well, he was hardly complaining. He could admit that he enjoyed the feel of the tiny body writhing beneath him, and the rodent's squeals and yelps spoke loudly to his beast mode's predator instinct. And what was more, it kept his mind off his messy break up with Megatron. For even though the charming dictator didn't want to accept that it was over, the warrior was more than finished with him.

Regardless, he was a Maximal now, and even if he did want to continue the relationship, it would have been foolish for so many reasons. And thanks to the easy, comforting distraction provided by Rattrap and his crude antics, Dinobot was finding more and more reasons to stay.

Today, he was on monitor duty while Cheetor took a catnap, and Rhinox and Optimus scouted out their surroundings, no doubt spending more time sniffing the flowers than watching for lurking Predacons. Even the mouse was slacking off, though Dinobot was far from surprised. He was supposed to be making repairs to the ship's engines, however, while scrolling through the security cameras, the bored warrior found him doing something much different.

Rattrap had a tool in hand, it was true, but he certainly wasn't using it for its intended purpose. It looked more like he was talking into it, singing, perhaps, and he was rhythmically gyrating his hips, his upper body swaying from side to side in a counter-rhythm. He was dancing directly in front of the cameras? Truly, the rodent was either incredibly stupid or up to something. It mattered very little which to the warrior, but he felt that he should alert the diminutive mech that he was being watched, at the very least.

As soon as he switched on the speakers, the rodent's squirrelly voice flooded the command center, a shrill, lilting pitch that any normal 'bot would have doubtlessly found annoying. Unfortunately, ever since he had switched factions, Dinobot had developed more programming glitches than he ever thought it was possible for one mech to have, and they all centered around the tiny spy dancing and singing across the screen in front of him.

_"I've heard dere was a secret chord dat David played, an' it pleased th' Lord, but you don' really care fer music, do ya? It goes like dis; th' forth, th' fifth! Th' minor fall, th' major lift! Da baffled king composin' hallelujah! Hallelujah..."_

The words and tune were... unfamiliar, to say the least. Where Rattrap had picked it up, Dinobot couldn't say and wouldn't even know where to begin to look, but at the moment, that was the last thing on his processor. No, he was too enthralled by the graceful sweeps the vermin's body cut through the air, the strangely melodic quality of his voice, and the amount of spark the rodent poured into the song.

Suddenly, the rat spun around, tilting his head back, looking directly into the camera's lens, and Dinobot caught himself jerking back, sucking in a breath as if he was the one in the wrong. Foolishness! It was the rodent slacking, not he! And Rattrap couldn't have any way of knowing that he was being watched, could he? No, no, no... It was simply theatrics to amuse the rodent's twisted sense of humor, and he would not be affected, not even as a golden servo reached up to stroke the camera's viewer in a lover's caress.

_"Yer faith is strong, but ya need some proof. Ya saw him bathin' on th' roof; his beauty in th' moonlight ova'threw ya. Mmmm, he tied ya to th' commander's chair, he broke yer throne, he left ya bare, an' from yer lips he drew th' hallelujah..."_

"Hallelujah," Rattrap repeated, the word pouring from his lips like thick, syrupy oil, drawn out like an energon bow and fired straight through Dinobot's audio receptors, down to his pulsing core. Arousal pinged in his groin and quickly infected all his other systems, driving out sense as surely and completely as if Primus himself was guiding it. Without consideration, he leaned over the console, his arms wrapping around the screen as if to block out all other sights and head bowed low.

He was vaguely aware of a disappointed sound burgeoning in his throat as the rodent pulled away from the camera, but the wretched vermin was still singing his hallelujahs as he moved through the room. Boxes were collected up, stacked beneath the screen, and as he climbed up, his voice swelled with power and emotion. Grime covered servos cupped the lens, and the warrior leaned closer to the screen as Rattrap's face filled his view, crimson optics sultry and beckoning.

_"Baby, I been here before; I know dese halls, I've walked dese floors, 'n I useta live alone before I knew ya. I seen yer flag on th' metal arch; love sure ain' a vict'ry march! It's a cold an' it's a broken... hallelujah. Hallelujah. Halleluuuujaaah..."_

A warning popped up from the depths of Dinobot's CPU, reminding him of the first time he'd ever laid eyes on Megatron. The malevolent dictator was a master of charisma, and had gathered a small crowd out in a square. Young and curious, the constructionmech had wandered up and fallen instantly to the sound of Megatron's voice. Rich, powerful, commanding... Dinobot had pushed his way to the front of the crowd without realizing it, and found himself gazing up into blazing crimson optics that seared him all the way to the spark.

What exactly happened next was a blur to his memory circuits. He knew the speech had been carried to it's conclusion, many Predacons walking away from it feeling empowered and encouraged, nodding to themselves or chatting with a companion, but what he had done, what Megatron had said... nothing. It was the same with every single one of Megatron's public speeches that the warrior had ever attended. He could remember tones, emotions, but never details, and they all inevitably reached the same conclusion; Dinobot pinned to a berth beneath the manipulative mech, screaming his name to the heavens.

Was he truly so easily won?

He wanted desperately to say no, his will was strong and processor clear, but the voice crooning through the speakers and face gazing up from the screen with smoldering optics and inviting lips said otherwise. He hadn't been filled with a desire this strong since his youth, and he wasn't even sure what he wanted. Only that he wanted, and that the tiny, bawdy, unrepentant vermin held the cure to the longing that pained his spark.

He feared that things were becoming far too complicated far too quickly, and if he didn't do something soon, he would find himself tangled up in something he'd never be able to escape.

"Vermin," he croaked, turning on the speaker that would allow two-way communication. He didn't like the needy way his voice sounded, and quickly schooled it into the resemblance of annoyance before he spoke again. "Just what do you think you are doing?"

"Juuuusss' makin' sure th' camera lens ain't cracked," Rattrap leered, his face shifting into a mask of perfect innocence. He knew. The warrior wasn't sure how, but he knew the rat knew. This was a game and he was playing right into the foul rodents sticky servos and iPrimus/i he was a ifool!/i

"I can assure you, the lens is fine, if not covered in fingerprints thanks to your needless touching," he growled, bitterness tainting his words and filling him with disgust. Complicated, indeed. He couldn't believe he was getting so worked up over so little. "Just return to the task that was assigned to you. And cease that infernal racket you've been making. Your idiotic voice has been grating on my last neuro-circuit."

"Heh." The smirk on Rattrap's face was the most irritating yet, Dinobot decided as the rodent stepped down from the crates and snapped of a jaunty salute. "Yes sah, Commander Chiselchin! Right away, sah!"

Sigh. Just what in the Matrix's promised land was he getting himself into?

* * *

Chapter 3 is up and available for veiwing! However, since it's explicit and smut, I'm erring on the side of caution and merely providing you with a link to it. If you have a Deviant Art account and are over 18, it can be read over nyeah: http://redickarys. deviantart. com/art/ 003-Making-History-151979929 Don't forget to remove the spaces!


	3. 004 Rivalry

Dinobot stormed through the underbrush of the jungle outside of the Axalon, leaves and twigs thwacking against his leathery hide. He couldn't believe the... the audacity of that rodent! Not for the first time, he violated the raptor's privacy, and _he'd gotten away with it as well! **AGAIN**_! Damn the vermin and his large, wide optics! Damn his lying, sniveling vocals! And damn Primal as well, and his accursed desire to only see the best in his crew! True, Rhinox knew the wretch well enough to take the pragmatic approach and check the showers for bugs, but somehow, _somehow,_ even with his continually improving scanners, he failed to detect anything out of the ordinary! Dinobot refused to believe that it was all in his head.

He _knew_ he'd heard the vermin's voice as he showered! He'd heard it soft and crinkling with static as though filtered through speakers. There was no way he could have imagined it, as the voyeur had been so quick to suggest; his imagination was not that good! He could not have mimicked the rodent's atrocious accent if he tried, let alone while lost in the throes of pleasure! And even if he could, what would that say about him? The passion, the desire he'd heard in those squeals and pants-!

A memory sent a shiver down his spine, and he slowed his pace, shaking his head and raising one claw to his cheek. He could feel the heat rising beneath his scales just from thinking about the miserable wretch and his ridiculous voice. Not for the the first time, he cursed his programming and the irresistible qualities of others' voices. If he was not careful, he'd find himself caught in an emotional whirlwind just as fierce as any conjured by Megatron and his infamous speaches.

"RrrrrrrnnnnnNNNO!" he shrieked, sending his claws raking through the air. "No, no, NO! I am a warrior! I am better than this! I will not be caught swooning over some foul-mouthed, malodorous lech-!"

A sudden noise stopped the raptor's rant short, his whole body tensing. The leaves of a nearby bush rustled, then there was a whiff of a scent, one most foul and damningly familiar. "No," he hissed, shoulders trembling with rage. Perhaps if he closed his eyes and denied it hard enough, it would go away. "No, Primus, please..."

A quiet cough herald the sleeping deity's lack of compassion. The rustle of leaves as the small gold and gray mech stood was a cosmic papercut, for all Primus cared, and the sound of his voice was just salt to rub on the wound. "Afta' th' way y'stormed off, I figgered I oughtta falla' ya, jus' ta make sure y'din't hurt'chaself."

"Did I ask for an explanation, Vermin?" the warrior sighed, tension leaving him as resigned himself to fate. He could not escape Rattrap it seemed, no matter how great his efforts.

"Ehn, noooo, but I jus' t'ought I owed ya one." The diminutive spy had the good grace to look sheepish, giving Dinobot an awkward sort of smile while he shuffled his feet and rubbed one sticky servo against his thigh.

"What makes this time different from any other, hrm?" Dinobot growled, though it lacked the usual anger. "You do not seem to value my privacy, my honor, my wishes, or practically anything else I might think of. As far as I'm concerned, the only thing you care about is yourself, and how much pleasure you can leech off others. And I highly doubt you've grown a conscious between the Axalon and now."

The spy's sheepish smile was replaced with a look of offense, then masked with an expression of cool indifference. Megatron would have approved of how quickly the rodent was able to school his facade so dispassionately. A true actor; no, a true _gambler_, and this was just another game of high stakes and profitable payout. It made the raptor's fuel tank churn.

"I'm just a prize to be won, aren't I?" he spat, unwilling to give Rattrap a chance to explain himself; he didn't want to hear it. "Just as Megatron before, you see me as nothing more than an object to own, a pet to win with pretty words and the illusion of care. A piece, a pawn in your game. Well, I do not wish to play! I have grown weary of all these games."

With those words, he turned away from the little malcontent, eyes lowered to the ground. The admission left him feeling tired and defeated. He knew Rattrap was keen enough to pick up on, but he doubted he'd be left alone.

Just as he expected, there was a rustle of leaves and cracking of twigs as the vermin stepped closer, but instead of more of the usual drivel, he felt a servo on his shoulder, cool, comforting, and surprisingly firm. He raised his gaze, and was stunned by the warmth of Rattrap's expression, understanding glowing in his optics. He could not remember the last time someone, anyone!, had looked at him like that, and it sent lances of fear plunging through his core. Whatever the rodent had planned, it would not end well for the warrior.

"C'mon, Dinobot. Let's go back t'th' ship. I'll take down all th' cameras, y'cin watch me an' y'cin even take dem wit'cha, so yanno I ain't jus' gonna put 'em back up soon as yer back's turned."

It wasn't an apology, or even an admission of guilt, really. He'd be so lucky to ever hear either of those from Megatron or the vermin, but it was a compromise. An offer to make up for past mistakes, and it was more than the tyrant had ever done for him. It made his spark pulse in his chest, locking up his vocalizer and sending a shiver down his back. Unable to find his voice, he simply nodded and held out his clawed hand, allowing the smaller mech to lead him back to the Axalon in silence.

* * *

In the dark red glow of the Predacon's lava-flooded command center, Megatron leaned over Scorponok, one heavy hand resting on the tech's shoulder. "Maximal drama" played on the computer's screen, helpfully supplied by one of the arachnid's cyberbees.

"Soooo," the tyrannosaurus drawled, clenching his servo. Scorponok barely flinched, but the twitch was enough to send bolts of anger racing through Megatron. Dinobot would have never acknowledged the pain the intense grip caused; he was far too disciplined for that. "My darling itraitor/i has gone and made himself at home with the Maximals already, has he?"

A surreptitious glance down at his newest second showed the tech focused on the screen before him, his expression carefully blank. Ah, so the scorpion was smart enough to know when to keep his mouth shut. He was no Dinobot, but as far as replacements went, he was turning out to be more than satisfactory. Loyal, shrewd, and rather handy when it came to technology. In a way, much more useful than the warrior, who's only skill lay in destruction.

Letting out a deep, rumbling chuckle, Megatron released his second's shoulder and stroked the dents left by his own fingertips. He felt, rather than saw, the tension leave Scorponok's shell. Loyal and trusting. Yesss, he would do just fine until Dinobot saw the light and returned to his side. For now, he'd just have to consider that blasted rodent his rival.


	4. 005 Unbreakable

Dinobot watched as Rattrap took down his spy cameras. There were nine in total, three each on the floor, ceiling, and walls. All were planted strategic locations that would ensure the best view, no matter where the subject stood. One by one, cameras no bigger than the tip of a soldering gun were placed in a slim metal box. He felt anger flare in him once more as Rattrap held the case up to him, lid open so that the room's lights glittered off the lenses. They leered up at him, spherical optics peering from the soft black material that lined the case, taunting him with their shared knowledge of his shame.

Primus, he was so ashamed of himself for succumbing to such filthy, base desires. He was only a mech, it was true, but he was also a warrior. He was supposed to be above such disgraceful things! He was supposed to have self-control – discipline! Stimulating himself to overload in the shower, the sound of Rattrap moaning and uttering filthy descriptions of despicable acts goading him... It made him sick to his fuel tank.

He felt it still, megacycles later, alone in his quarters, holding the container of tiny gray cameras in his claws, knowing as long as that box remained in his possession, the miserable rodent would never be able to use them again. They shouldn't have been used in the first place. Rattrap _knew _that by using them, he was betraying the fragile trust between them. Had he even placed that much faith in the spy to begin with? He hadn't been with the Maximals for more than a decacycle, and he'd thoughtlessly sent Cheetor out into danger several times, and he was just a cub! Was he no better than the vermin?

Bah! He hated that he'd been forced to think like this. He was no Maximal; he was a Predacon! He had more pride than this! But his honor....

The lid snapped shut. He had to stop avoiding the heart of the matter. Rattrap had betrayed his trust, his privacy, and his honor. He deserved whatever punishment Dinobot dished out, and only once he'd suffered for his sins would he be redeemed. And he would pay for what he had done to Dinobot.

Oh, the rodent would pay.

~*~

Night fell upon the Earth, as it was wont to do, and as the enshrouding darkness settled over the Axalon, so did its inhabitants settle into their chambers. Even the mighty Dinobot retired to his berth to recharge, letting the day's frustrations fade away while he sprawled over the metal and mesh platform. He drifted into slumber, curled on his side, helmed head resting on his outstretched servos.

An innumerable amount of time passed before an angry shriek startled the warrior from recharge. He leapt to his feet, sword in hand and ready for battle. For a nanoklick, the energon surged through his fuel lines, racing with the desire for battle, but then his processor identified the voice of the effeminate shout. A glance at his internal chronometer confirmed that the rat's shift on monitor duty was just beginning, and he couldn't hold in the dark chuckle that left his lips as he sheathed his sword, nor could he hide the malicious smirk that twisted his face. Never mind, he didn't even try. He wanted the rodent to know.

"My games!" Rattrap squealed as Dinobot sauntered into the command center. "Some slagger deleted all my games!"

"That's the emergency you chose to wake the entire ship for?" the warrior drawled, crossing his arms over his chest and glancing over the assembled mechs. Sure enough, the entire crew of the Axalon had gathered in the ship's bridge, all in various states of awareness. Cheetor was barely awake, Primal drowsy and annoyed, and Rhinox... well, he didn't look tired, but to say he was miffed would been putting it lightly.

"Yeah, an' lookit who's oh so smug 'bout it, too," Rattrap seethed, clenching his a fist at his side and jerking the other to point accusingly at the raptor. "If I din't know any betta', I'd say it was you what done it!"

"Oh, is that so? And do you have any proof that it was I who performed this most _heinous _act?" Dinobot crooned, his cruel smirk turning into a challenging, toothy grin.

"I think dat grin a' yers oughtta be proof anuff!" Rattrap snapped, flicking his servo to the side and lunging for the raptor. Something silver glittered at the rodent's wrists, and just for one fleeting moment, Dinobot wondered if provoking Rattrap really had been a good idea.

The moment was passed quickly, and despite the lack recharge fogging his processor, Optimus' arm shot out and plucked the flying rodent from the air before he could get too far.

"Listen, Rattrap" he grumbled, carelessly dropping Rattrap at his feet. "Personally, I don't care who did it. In fact, I'd like to thank them. You're supposed to be watching for Predacon activity, not playing games!"

"But I-!"

"But nothing!" Letting out a sigh, the gorilla pressed to fingers to his forehead and shot Dinobot a mild glare. "And as for you, Dinobot, provoking Rattrap like that was petty, regardless of who did what. I'm letting it drop, this time, but if you two don't stop fighting, I don't know what I'm going to do with you! I hope that if he ever does something that truly deserves punishment, you'd come to me and report it. It's my duty as the commander of this ship to discipline my crew members, not yours."

There was a moment of silence where Dinobot suppressed the urge to roll his optics, then the Saurian swallowed his pride and bowed his head. "Acknowledged," he conceded, spitting out the word with as little disdain as he could manage. "But let it be said that I would not feel the need to provoke the rodent if he did not make himself such an... unmistakable target."

"Hey-!"

"Dinobot, _please," _ Primal pleaded, turning tired eyes to the warrior. "It's late, we're tired, can't you let it go just this once?"

"Hrm, very well," the raptor conceded, turning his head away. He was going soft. He'd only been with the Maximals for less than one decacyle, and he was already going soft. He was pathetic. "But only because Primus knows what the rodent will do to me while I recharge if I don't."

"Thank you." The relief was audible in Optimus's voice as he turned to leave the bridge. The ape really worked himself to the endostructure, trying to keep his team from killing each other and keeping the Predacons from killing them all. A brief flash of sympathy flared in Dinobot, but he forced it down. Weakness was not something that should be obvious in a leader; if Optimus was struggling, he didn't deserve to be in command.

"Well, I ain't lettin' it go," Rattrap grumbled once Primal was gone. He pushed himself up off the ground and plopped down in his chair, red optics glaring bloody murder at Dinobot. The effect was ruined by the childish pout on his face, but the warrior managed to reign in his amusement. "You mess wit' me, you ain't walkin' away unscathed. Mark my words, Dinodip, dis means _war_."

"Hmm, well. I look forward to it," the raptor chuckled, turning on his heel and flashing a smirk over his shoulder as he turned and walked out of the room.


	5. 006 Obsession

Rhinox pursed his lips as Dinobot entered the command center, already in beast mode, his back driveshaft-straight, eyes opened wide, and jaw clamped shut. He didn't stop to request an assignment from Optimus like he usually did in the morning, he just shuffled awkwardly across the room towards the lift, eyes straight ahead as if he would be punished for looking to the side. His behavior reminded the engineer of a young bot who'd walked in on his creators interfacing.

Which meant that Rattrap was probably behind it, somehow.

Holding in an explosive sigh, Rhinox rubbed the bridge of his nose and shook his head, turning back to the monitors. The little spy would be recharging by now, after a long night on the midnight shift, and trying to rouse him wouldn't help any. The rat would just whine and grouse and ignore him until he went away, rendering any admonishment impotent.

At least he wouldn't have to deal with them arguing today.

~*~

Scorponok couldn't believe his luck. Sure, he'd done everything in his power make an impression on Megatron, but every effort he'd ever made was overshadowed by the tyrant's beloved Dinobot. No matter how many times the raptor disobeyed, not matter how many times he questioned Megatron's orders, no matter how many times _he got his aft beaten into the floor, t_he warrior still remained the chosen favorite. He just didn't get it!

Okay, so maybe the Saurian was irrevocably handsome and could be endlessly charming. There was something about the way he carried himself that drew younger mechs to his side, made them swoon and fall over themselves just to be near him. He'd seen Terrorsaur nearly decapitate Waspinator on several occasions just to try and impress the warrior. But surely Megatron was beyond such childish, blind idol worship, right?

Slag, he should just delete the bastard from his harddrive. Dinobot finally showed his true colors and turned his back on Megatron, and now he, Scorponok, was the leader of the Predacons' right hand mech. He stood proudly at the tyrannosaur's side, chest puffed out and head held high. Megatron relied on him to corral the troops when they got rowdy, and had him lead scouting parties into Maximal territory. He was more than just a nameless soldier, he had rank! He was important. And best of all, Megatron _trusted him._

…Trusted him to waste a cyberbee on spying on that stupid little traitor.

The techbot grunted and dropped his chin onto his wrist, narrowing his eyes at his screen. It was about time for the Maximals to start waking up and setting up their perimeter. The cheetah would take the first patrol, simply because he'd be up and out before anyone could stop him. He'd run around the Savannah for half a megacycle, scaring up varmints and birds in the early morning light, then head back to base just as Dinobot came down the lift. The raptor would stomp around the jungle until midday, then return to the Axalon. It was so dull and predictable, Scorponok wondered why he bothered.

Stupid Megatron and his stupid obsession with the stupid traitor.

~*~

Rattrap's presence was proceeded by his smell. That was the one truth about the spy that Rhinox found consistently reliable. It had been true on Cybertron, it had been true in the Vespa System, and now here, on this fascinating little dirtball of a planet, it was still true.

So when Rattrap wandered into the command center around midday, Rhinox wasn't surprised. He didn't even need to look up as the rodent passed; he just waited until the smell was at its strongest before he reached out and snagged the diminutive mech by the wrist.

"It ends now, Rattrap," he rumbled, tearing his optics away from the data read-outs to scowl at the spy. "And don't think that look of feigned innocence is going to get you out of this. I know you."

"I got no idea wha'cher talkin' 'bout, Big Green," he chirped, gently tugging his servo back, testing Rhinox's grip, but the engineer had a firm grasp on him, and it only got tighter the harder he tried to get away.

"I mean your obsession with Dinobot," Rhinox growled, yanking the smaller mech to his side.

With a yelp, Rattrap stumbled closer, his chin tucked down and optics wide. The scolded youngling look hadn't worked on Rhinox in vorns, yet the rodent stilled tried it every time.

"Don't give me that look," he warned, taking Rattrap's other wrist in his servo and giving him a little shake. "You know better than that, and you know what I'm talking about, so let's skip all this nonsense and cut to the chase, all right?"

"He deleted my games, Rhinox," demurred the spy, his tone deceptively sweet and innocent. "I couln't jus' let 'im get away wit' dat, could I? He'd think I was weak 'n flaky."

"You _are_ flaky, Rattrap!" Rhinox snapped, letting go of the spy's wrists and grabbing his shoulders instead. "You're a lying, thieving, petty little slut of a mech, and you don't give two slates about what other people think of you! So why change that now? Why Dinobot? What have you done to him?"

Instead of replying right away, Rattrap turned away, worrying his lower lip with his large frontal dentals. Just as Rhinox was getting ready to shake him again, a slow, coquettish grin spreading over his face. "Yer jealous, ain'cha?"

"Jealous?" the engineer repeated, a note of disbelief in his voice. He couldn't be serious, could he?

"Yes, jealous."

"Of Dinobot?"

"No, Rhinox, yer jealous a' Cheetor," the golden mech laughed, closing the final distance between them and sliding onto the rhino's lap. His arms slid around the big green mech's neck, and Rhinox reluctantly returned the gesture. His servos rested on the spy's slim hips, his thick fingers curled around the shape of his aft.

"I'm sorry I been chasin' lizards when I shoulda been spendin' time wit'chu," Rattrap crooned, nuzzling his forehead against Rhinox's cheek. Lips brushed together, and slim, agile fingers danced up the engineer's neck.

It was hard to think with Rattrap so close. Every time Rhinox got the code together to yell at him, to push him off, the diminutive spy would press a soft, fleeting kiss to his face or brush his fingertips over the top of his head. It shouldn't be so easy for the rodent to weasel out of trouble, but Rattrap knew him too well. He knew just where to kiss, just where to touch to make the engineer's processors go fuzzy.

Rhinox lasted a cycle before he gave in and crushed the spy's tiny body against his own. Lips met in a rough, dominating kiss, and Rattrap went limp in his arms, a happy little warble echoing from his vocalizer.

A pneumatic hiss filled the air as the lift descended and returned, carrying a sober and sore raptor into the ship. The entwined mechs didn't notice, but Dinobot certainly noticed them. He froze in midstep, eyes wide and his jaw left forgotten on the ground outside.

His fuel tank churned. He couldn't watch. He couldn't turn away. He'd spent all night and all day unable to banish the vermin from his thoughts, and now... this? Was he just a toy to the rodent? Something to amuse him while his true paramour was busy? All that teasing, all that flirting, all those sly glances from across the room! Just a game!

He'd fallen for it, and he'd fallen hard. He felt ashamed of himself. He was so ashamed, he was sickened by it. He was such an idiot.

One clawed hand punched the lift's controls and Dinobot left the base once more, unnoticed and hating himself.


	6. 009 Death

Rattrap felt his fuelpump stop as he stumbled upon the clearing, transforming as he ran closer. Optimus looked at him so sadly, and the prone form behind him...

"Dinobot?" he squeaked, taking the last few steps to the fallen warrior's side and dropping to his knees. He scrambled to find Dinobot's hand, wanting nothing more than to throw himself over the Suarian's chest and sob his optics out, but he could hear the others approaching and he knew Dinobot would not take well to such an undignified display.

As Rattrap caught the warrior's hand an brought it to his lips, Dinobot stirred and let out a soft groan, turning his head to face the rodent. It made his spark pulse painfully to see the normally bright crimson optics dimmed so low. Hesitantly, he lifted one hand and brushed his fingertips over Dinobot's helm, feeling emboldened as the warrior's optics flickered off at the contact.

"Of all the times for you to be restrained, Vermin," the raptor chuckled, pain making his voice crackle with static. He weakly twisted his hand from Rattrap's grip and caught the rodent's chin, one finger brushing over his lips. "You've toyed with me, you've manipulated me, and you've disregarded my every desire. Why hold back now?"

"What, you want tears, Dinobot?" Rattrap choked, nuzzling his face into the warrior's hand. Optics hidden by the long, leathery fingers, he let a few tears fall onto the warm palm. "Wouln't think y'd want a joik like me cryin' ova' ya while ya die."

Vaguely, Rattrap thought he head Rhinox protest, but the engineer's voice was quickly stifled. It tripped alarm bells all throughout the spy's processor and he tilted his head so that he could peer between Dinobot's fingers. Optimus had his hand over the rhino's mouth and was whispering furiously into his audios. What the Pit? What was going on here?

A particularly loud, rattling intake from Dinobot jerked Rattrap from his suspicions, his attention diverted to the wounded reptile. Now that he thought about it, those burn marks on his chest looked pretty superficial, and the gashes that covered his body didn't go as deep as they looked. But there was an awful lot of mech fluid splashed around on the foliage and dripping out of the cuts, and he could almost swear he saw Dinobot's spark flashing in one of the bigger gashes. So maybe the cuts were bad, but not as bad as they looked, and certainly not faked. So why the theatrics?

"So, you admit fault?" rasped the warrior, a clear note of hope in his voice. Was that what this was about? Getting him to see the error of his ways and clean up his act?

"Sorry ta disappoint ya, Choppa'face," he chuckled, scooting closer to the Suarian so that he was nestled against his side. "I cin think a' a dozen bots who'd sing my praises back on Cybertron, but I ain't gonna lie ta ya, I ain't onna dem. I'm selfish an' cruel an' I ain't got no problem usin' people, an' I ain't ashamed a' dat."

Out of the corner of his optic, he saw Optimus hustle Rhinox and Cheetor out of the clearing, much to their displeasure. Rhinox bellowed and fought against their leader, but somehow, Primal managed to hold him back.

"You can't DO this, Optimus! He's not yours to give!" the engineer snarled, then Primal placed one hand on his chest and shoved him back into the jungle. The Maximal leader followed after him, but moments later, the gorilla was shoved back into the clearing. The ensuing scuffle could be heard for miles as the pair fought and shoved their way through the jungle.

Rattrap had to laugh. The whole set-up was absurd. Dinobot was faking his own death, and for what? Rhinox was throwing a fit over Optimus playing matchmaker, and for what? For him? All of this, for him? Primus frag it all, it was absurd.

"Yanno, it amazes me how many bots'll fight fer me," he giggled, sliding Dinobot's hand to his cheek and nuzzling it. "I wouln't if I weren't me, but ehn, I think I got it all figyahed out, now."

"Rattrap, I don't have TIME for this-"

"Oh shaddup, Razormaw," Rattrap cut him off, poking at a gash on Dinobot's side. The Saurian gasped and grabbed his hand, making the rodent smirk. "I ain't so dumb dat I cain't see through yer lil' act. Y'might be damaged, but y'ain't dyin', I cin tell."

Dinobot's optics slid to the side, a hint of a blush making his cheeks glow. It looked so off on the warrior's stern face, Rattrap couldn't help but smile.

Swinging one leg over Dinobot's stomach, Rattrap sprawled out on the warrior's broad chest, careful not to bump any of the wounds. He retrieved a roll of electrical tape from storage and began doing field repairs, cleaning up spilled mech fluid and reinforcing gaps in the Saurian's armor.

"Yer lucky y'ain't got no energon build-up yet," he murmured as he worked, nimble fingers moving quickly over the damage.

"Tis a relatively unsaturated area," Dinobot rumbled, giving a small shrug of his shoulders and wincing as it sent sparks flying.

Rattrap squealed and shifted his attention to the frayed wiring, clicking his glossa scoldingly. "I thought you was jus' s'pposed ta be chasin' off Waspinator an' Terrorsaur. How'd you get so fuckered up?"

"Do not write them off as incompetant fighters," the raptor growled, narrowing his optics dangerously.

"Oho, is dat a note of pride I'm detectin'?" the rodent teased, looking up from his work long enough to flash Dinobot a smirk. "What, did'ya ova'see dere trainin' yerself, or somethin'?"

"Some of it, yes."

"Heh, dat explains why Terrorsaur hesitates before he shoots at ya." With one last little chuckle and a flourish, Rattrap pushed himself up and tucked his tape away. "Aight, y'should be able ta transform widdout shortin' yerself out, but no more fakin' yer death ta get alone time wit' me. Medic's ordas."

"Oh, so you're a medic now, are you?"

"Yup! Jus' call me Nurse Rattrap!" he chirped with a wink and a nod of his head. Moments later, he scrambled to his feet and nudged the raptor's side. "Now c'mon, transform so we cin get back ta base before y'blow a fuse. 'Less ya want me ta leave ya ta Rhinox's tenda' mercies."

Grunting, Dinobot slowly got to his feet, wincing all the while as the movement tugged at his wounds. Surprisingly, Rattrap's patchjob held and he was able to return to beast mode with only minimal amounts of screaming in pain.

Rattrap just laughed and rolled his eyes. "You big baby."


	7. 010 Opportunity

Dinobot liked to consider himself the very picture of poise, grace, and self-control. Even first thing in the morning, when he was still groggy from recharge. And so when he tripped over Rattrap and went tumbling to the ground, it was entirely on purpose.

Unfortunately, the way they landed was a complete accident.

"Well. Good mornin' ta you too, Dinobot," the vermin chirped from his nethers. He could feel the Primus damned rodent's lips brushing over his crotch when he spoke, and he'd be slagged if he wouldn't shut up! "Is dis how all Preds greet people firs' thing in th' mornin', or are you jus' happy ta see me?"

"What?" Dinobot snapped, roughly pushing himself onto his knees so that he could glared down his length at the irritating mech.

"What, y'hadn't noticed?" the wretched rodent giggled, pushing himself up onto his elbows and bending his knee, giving Dinobot the full view of his crotch. He was sorely tempted to reach back there and throttle the foul vermin, but Rattrap continued on before he got the chance.

"Yer gearbox's open," he leered, unnecessarily reaching up and stuffing his fingers into the warrior's exposed wires. The raptor's head jerked up with a gasp, and Rattrap chortled. "So, y'wan' me ta take care'a dis fer ya?"

A strangled sound was Rattrap's only answer as his sticky fingers manipulated Dinobot's wiring. He rolled two thin wires between his fingertips, and the raptor's slapped a hand over his mouth, a pleasured moan slipping past his fingers. Though he'd heard the sound before through the courtesy of his spy cameras, being present and the cause of the warrior's loss of control was a whole 'nother ball game. It was a power rush, knowing he could make someone so strong and stoic become so desperate and needy with only a few touches.

He took advantage of the warrior's position to explore Dinobot while the warrior fought to hold in whimpers and moans of pleasure, his hips occasionally pushing back whenever Rattrap found a particularly sensitive bundle of circuitry. He stroked a thick wire that lead back towards Dinobot's port, and the warrior gasped, his head thrown back. Arching an optic ridge, the rodent shifted to his knees and experimentally slid his fingers forward, towards Dinobot's plug. His head dropped forward once more and his shoulders hunched up; a strangled, barely stifled sound reached Rattrap's audios.

As if he'd been shocked, the tiny mech jerked his hand back and fell back on his aft. He didn't like that sound. He didn't like Dinobot's posture. It was like he had done something wrong. No, that was wrong; he'd done something iright/i that the warrior iwanted/i, but felt ashamed about it. But why? Why would be be okay with Rattrap touching his port, but not his plug? You'd think a built mech like Dinobot'd prefer -

A sharp impact against his face cut off that train of thought, and the next thing he knew, he was colliding with the wall hard enough to leave a Rat-shaped dent. It jarred his frame uncomfortably, sending pieces rattling in his head.

"Ow," he gasped, the world spinning around him. A small warning in the corner of his display told him that his stabilizer was damaged. He'd have to sit there and wait for internal repairs to be finished, but all things said and done, that kick in the face could've been a lot worse.

"Kay, I d'serv'at," he slurred, holding his head with one hand. His other hand braced against the floor as he tried to get up, but his wrist slipped and elbow went lax, pitching him forward onto his face. "Ow. 'M okay, swears."

"Rattrap?" Dinobot's voice was hesitant, quiet, and coming from somewhere to the right, as if he was sort of worried about the damage he'd caused, but not worried enough to come over and check.

"Dun worreh, my diagnostic sez I'll be fiiiiine," he giggled, trying to coordinate his limbs enough to roll onto his back. It took some flopping around, but he finally managed to flip himself over and roll his head towards Dinobot.

The warrior was huddled in a corner on the other side of the hallway, watching him with a mixture of fear and concern.

Rattrap laughed. "Yer adorable."

"What?"

"Yer adorable," he repeated, flashing what had to be the goofiest smile imaginable at the raptor. When an annoyed, confused stare was all he got in return, Rattrap tittered and rolled his optics.

"I know, I know. Yer a big, bad warrior an' y'ain't s'pposed ta be cute," he explained, the words leaving his vocalizer before he really had a chance to think about what he was saying. "But'cha got dis... disness 'bout'cha. Like yer tryin' so hard ta be bad, but really, yer jus' a big, cuddly lizard who wants someone t'tell 'im dat it's okay ta be weak sometimes."

"Your processor is damaged," Dinobot deadpanned, moving to sit up. "I should fetch Rhinox."

"Nononono!" Rattrap flailed, optics going round. "No Rhinox, 'M okay, swears! Siddown, dis is prolly th' only chance I got!"

It took a moment, but Dinobot slowly eased himself back down, a dubious scowl fixed on the rat. "What do you mean, the only chance you'll get?"

"Well, yer right," the spy grinned sheepishly, folding his arms beneath his head. "My processor prolly is damaged. Has ta be, no otha' way I'd be willin' ta talk like dis. I'll admit I'm a bad bot an' make lewd comments 'bout my younga' days, but really, I hate talkin' 'bout myself."

Dinobot didn't look like he believed that for a second, so Rattrap blundered on, wondering how long this moment would last. "I mean it, Dinobot. I literally ihate/i th' thought a' myself, so I go outta my way not ta think 'bout it, let alone talk 'bout it. I dunno how y'cin stand all th' introspection ya do; I'd drive myself ta suicide if I tried it."

"You cannot possibly be-"

"I am," Rattrap snorted, cutting Dinobot off before the dumb lizard went and said something to make him feel good. "I am literally th' worst bot I know. My own creators didn't even want me. Jus' dumped me on th' side a' th' road before I even knew what was what. Sometimes I wonder why dey botha'd wit' a spark if dey knew dey was jus' gonna get ridda' me, but hey what cin ya do?"

"I'm s-"

"I don't bneed/b yer sympathy, Scalebelly," Rattrap scowled, rolling onto his stomach and pushing himself up onto his forearms. He half-expected to pratfall again, but was pleasantly surprised when his arms held, and he was able to fix Dinobot with a stern look. "I'm far past th' point where dat'll do me any good, an' s'too late fer pity. I'm a grown mech, I cin handle rejection. Not always very well, mind you, but I ain't runnin' off ta kill myself jus' cuz someone don' like me no more."

"No more...?"

"S'long story, n' anyway, dat ain't th' point." Flashing a self-depreciating smirk, the tiny spy pushed himself up unsteadily. The world still wobbled beneath his feet, but not so bad that he couldn't walk if he went slow. Heh, it was sort of like being overcharged, and he be damned if he didn't have practice navigating like that.

He staggered across the hall, arms thrown out for balance, and made it to Dinobot's side before he tripped up and collapsed. The warrior tensed up as Rattrap sprawled over his lap, but the little mech ignored it.

"My point is," he began, shuffling around until he was comfortably kneeling between the warrior's knees. "Dat I like you, Dinobot. Yer a big, bad Pred, an' I know I waste code on ya. But I do. I been watchin' ya, an' not jus' in th' showers. Yer betta' den y'want us ta believe, an' prolly betta' den even you wanna admit to yerself. An' yer right 'bout so many things, 'specially on takin' out th' Megs, but Maximals jus' ain't practical people. Y'gotta do ev'rything diplomatically first, an' when dat don' woik, ya do wha'cha cin ta minimize casulties. An' dey always wanna believe th' best in people...."'

Rattrap shook his head and shrugged one shoulder, words coming more reluctantly now that his internal repairs were well underway. "What I'm tryin' ta say is... what I mean is... you're too good ta be a Predacon, an' I'm too bad ta be a Maximal. So... why don't we jus'... put dis all aside 'n call it equal, hehn?"

Dinobot was quiet for a long moment, staring down at the rodent in his lap with a faint scowl. Rattrap could almost see lines of code whizzing through the warrior's optics as he mulled things over, weighing the pros and cons. But he was thinking about it, and that was more than Rattrap thought he'd ever get. Hope dared to fill his spark, making him feel dizzy and light-headed. Finally, the raptor sighed and wrapped his powerful arms around Rattrap's slim waist.

"There is but one condition," Dinobot growled, fixing the spy's optics with a heated stare.

"Yeah?"

"I care not what other flaws you think you have, but iI/i do not share."

"D'you honestly think I'm worth-"

"No," the Saurian rumbled, optics no longer focused on Rattrap. "But I am willing to give you the opportunity to prove me wrong."

"I live to disappoint," Rattrap laughed, the note bitter and forced, but his smile was genuine as he tucked his head under Dinobot's chin and clung to the raptor's chest. iPrimus, don't let me screw this up, just this once./i


	8. 027 Lost and Found

Monitor duty. The dullest task ever conceived by sentient life, and yet for many operations, one of the most critical. Nothing ever happened, and when it did, the most you could do was inform your superior, then sit back and watch, no matter how much you wanted to go out with the troops and do something. For Dinobot, it was the worst form of torture ever imaginable.

Today wasn't so bad though, he had to admit. The monitors were all clean, not a Predacon in range, but he had a duty-shirking rodent to keep him company. The tiny copper Maximal was happily nestled between his legs, completely hidden from sight for everyone but him. Not that he needed to look down to see the little wretch when a pair of linkcables discreetly connected their bodies, allowing constant, silent communication.

For the most part, Rattrap chatted away mindlessly, reminding the stoic warrior Cheetor on a gossip binge, but somehow, he didn't mind. He certainly wasn't complaining when the rodent would nuzzle or hug his shins, the tender motions accompanied by a snippet of song. Though the lyrics were generally vulgar, they had a certain poetic quality, and without the appropriate music playing in the background, the spy was doing nothing more than reciting loosely structured poetry.

Rattrap didn't find that bit of teasing amusing, but it didn't stop him from doing it, either, and he certainly didn't keep his hands off Dinobot's legs for very long. The warrior reciprocated the attention by, well, not keeping his legs off Rattrap for very long. He ran his foot over the little mech's thighs, aft, chest, or really, any part of the rodent he came into contact with. Little bursts of happiness and amusement shot through the link whenever he caught the nimble bot between his shins, half-sparkedly crushing him and jostling him about, and he'd get a little nip for his efforts. He knew he really shouldn't encourage Rattrap's work-avoiding behavior, but no one had come looking for him yet, so he wasn't so concerned about it.

It wasn't until his shift was almost finished that Optimus Primal approached, his lips turned down in a puzzled frown.

"Dinobot, have you seen Rattrap at all today? I've been looking all over, but I can't find a trace of him! I am this close to crawling into the vents."

"Clearly you haven't looked everywhere if you haven't done a thorough search of the ventilation system," the raptor quipped, the corners of his lips quirking up into a smirk. Between his legs, Rattrap grabbed the Saurian's leg and pressed his face into it, giggles bouncing through their link.

"My question still stands, Dinobot. You've been at the monitors all day; have you seen him?"

"Primal, that little wretch would not let me go a single day without being subjected to his foul presence. Tis a superfluous question to ask me. Of course I've seen him."

"Oh, prime!" Optimus chirped, an expectant smile lighting up his face. It didn't fade as Dinobot turned back to the monitors, and arbitrarily cycled through the security cameras. It was still there a cycle later when Rattrap started singing through their link, his slim fingers tracing the ridges of Dinobot's shingaurds. It finally faltered when it became apparent that the warrior wasn't paying any attention to the mech standing at his shoulder, and Optimus heaved an explosive sigh.

"Dinobot, iwhere/i did you see him?" the Maximal commander asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Rattrap was clearly rubbing off on the raptor, and he wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Oh, he was flitting around the bridge several megacycles ago," Dinobot shrugged, smiling to himself as he craddled Rattrap between his shins. The rodent threw a suggestion at him, and the words were out of his mouth before he could think about them. "I ate him."

"You.... what? Dinobot, that's not funny."

"Mm, no, it's not," the warrior agreed, glancing up towards Optimus and biting his lip. Rattrap's giggles were making it hard to keep a straight face. "But if it's any consolation, he was quite sumptuous. A bit sweet in places, but over all, he was a rather succulent little morsel. I wish there was more of him."

"That's... you... what?" Optimus's eyes went wide as he spluttered, taking a step back. He wasn't sure if Dinobot was pulling his leg, being serious, or if this was some thinly veiled innuendo. The Saurian might not look like he was capable of being crude, but Primal had been privy to more than his share of fights between the rodent and the raptor. "Please tell me you're joking. I know he's annoying but at the same time, we can't really afford not to have him around..."

"Awww, dat's awfully sweet'a ya ta say," Rattrap smirked, pushing Dinobot back so that he could poke his head out and rest it on Dinobot's thigh. "But he really did eat me. Pinned me to wall and slurped me right down."

Optimus stared. His optic twitched and his mouth opened and closed a few times as if he was going to say something, but nothing ever came out. In the end, he just turned on his heel and walked away, the two mechs watching his retreating back with matching smirks.

Once their leader was out of sight, Dinobot turned down to the rodent in his lap and smiled fondly at him. "That was a ihorrible/i thing to do."

"Pft. You enjoyed ev'ry minnit of it."


	9. 042 Start

"They're out of range, Megatron," Scorponok whispered loudly, mentally cringing as he watched his leader fire impotently at Optimus Primal and Tigatron. He knew the tyrannosaurus was just venting his rage, but it made him uncomfortable, watching the normally dignified Megatron behave so childishly.

It didn't get any better when, in a fit of rage, Megatron picked up the nearest object, the newest Predacon's head, and threw it at him.

"Gather up that junkpile and bring him back to base, then find me those spiders," he growled, still glaring hatefully at the horizon. "I want to have a few _words_with them."

He watched Megatron stagger to his feet, transform, and make his way back to the ship, frowning to him. As soon as the tyrant was out of sight, Scorponok sighed and glowered down at the head settled in his lap, the words "Defend the Colony!" repeating like a broken audio track.

Great. He was stuck cleaning up one of Tarantulas' messes _again_.

"You know he's just going to cause trouble when he gets out of there, right?"

Looking up from placing the last piece of the new Pred into the CR Tank and over his shoulder at the spiderfemme sulking in the shadows, Scorponok grunted and shook his head, hitting the control panel with his claw in annoyance. As the scorched remains sunk into the nanite mixture, the tech turned his glare on her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"So what else is new? Every single pod that's been opened up so far has been nothing but trouble."

Brushing aside the implications in the tech's words with a wave of her claw, Blackarachnia stepped forward, a sneer curling her lips. "It won't be the usual sort of trouble, dull-wit. He thinks he's a _real_ ant, and Tigatron blew up his "colony." As soon as he wakes up here, he's going to go berserk and try to kill us all!"

"He thinks he's a _real_ ant?" Scorponok asked, pursing his lips nervously when Blackarchnia nodded the affirmative. Well yes, that could be trouble after all. "What does that even mean, exactly?"

The spider shrugged one shoulder, cocking her hip to the side. "I don't know the details, but he was pretty detirmined to protect his stasis pod, and he kept saying something about The Royalty."

"So... He considered his stasis pod his colony, right? And Tigatron blew that up?" the tech asked slowly, piecing together something that sort of resembled a plan. Blackarachnia confirmed his thoughts, so he continued on. "Well, a pod isn't that different from a spaceship, when you think about it, is it?"

"You're going to convince him the ship is his colony?" the spider asked incredulously, unable to believe her audios. Did he really think it would be that easy? Would it be that easy? "Oh man, this I have to see."

"Well, he's still got a few cycles in the tank," Scorponok mused, calling over a hoverpad so he could work at one of the computer terminals. "Megatron said he wanted to deal with you and Tarantulas, but if you'd rather stand around and wait, you could make yourself useful and watch the monitors, or something."

"Ugh, monitor duty," the femme sniffed disdainfully, hip cocked to the side. Yeah, that was really how she wanted to spend her time. Stepping onto the hoverpad beside him, she slipped the tip of her claw underneath Scorponok's chin. She tilted the tech's face towards hers and leaned in, her lips just hovering over his. "Why would you want me on monitor duty when there are much more interesting things you could have me do?"

The twitch of an optical ridge was all the warning she had before Scorponok was shoving her away with a grunt, his expression twisted into a look of disgust. "I'm not interested in the likes of you, Spider, and if you try that again, I won't hesitate to call Megatron."

Blackarachnia groaned. Well, it wasn't as if she had expected that to work. With a roll of her optics, she summoned her own hoverpad and moved over to the security monitor. At least staring mindlessly at a computer screen was better than dealing with Megatron.

A splash from the CR Tank made Scorponok's head snap up and whip around, the security console he was debugging all but forgotten. It was funny; Scorponok would have sworn he set the alarm to go off as soon as the CR Tank was finished, and the timer said there were still a few cycles left; there shouldn't have been any sort of disturbance. Well, he wasn't crawling out of the tank, so maybe he was just twitching in stasis. It wasn't a common occurrence, but some mechs were just like that, so the tech shrugged it off and returned to his work.

One short klik later, he regretted it.

"Where am I and what have you done with the Colony, arachnid?" a dark, smokey voice hissed in his audio while cool metal fingers slipped around his neck. In the heated air of the command deck, condensation beaded on the cooled body of the newly repaired bot, who insisted on wrapping around him and pressing their bodies together, the stark contrast of temperatures making shivers race down his spinal strut.

"I-I have n-no idea what you're t-talking about," he stuttered, mentally cursing the nervous glitch that made his voice tremble. "You're in the c-colony."

The ant hissed, tightening his grip on Scorponok's neck. "This is not my Colony!"

Cringing, the tech jerked his head to the side and cycled air through his vents, forcing himself to remain calm. If he stuttered, the ant would never be convinced, and _why wasn't Blackarachnia doing anything?_ "Y-you sure? I mean, the th-the only other colony around here belongs to the M-Maximals..."

The ant hissed again, and Scorponok offlined his opticband, bracing himself. Oh slag, he'd fragged up good. Now the ant was going to maul him, and Blackarachnia probably took off, that slagging spider witch, and then who knows how much damage the ant would do with no one around to stop him, and worst of all, he'd failed to tame the new recruit for Megatron...

But instead, the grip on his neck eased and the hand slid to his shoulder. He felt the ant straighten, the cool wetness of his body rising away from the scorpion's, letting the warm volcanic air rush into its place. Scorponok didn't relax, that would be dumb, but he did switch his opticband back on and look over his shoulder.

Confusion showed on the ant's face as he looked around the command deck, his red optics glowing brightly and jagged dentals clenched together. "This place... is too big to be my Colony?"

"Y-you mean y-your pod, right?"

"Pod?" The ant's optic's flickered and he looked down at the tech. There was defiance glowing in his optics, but beneath it was just the barest hint of uncertainty, just enough for Scorponok to latch onto and use to his advantage. Frag, the mech had incredibly expressive if even he was picking up his emotions.

"No, not "pod,"" the ant murmured, shaking his head as if to dispel his doubts. "Colony."

"A pod can only hold one bot; it's a part of the colony," Scorponok explained, feeling a bit more confident. After all, he wasn't lying; he was just bending the truth a little. "Not the whole thing."

"The pod came from here?" At Scorponok's nod, he snarled and slammed his hand down on the edge of the computer console. "Then why was it not here when I awoke? Why was it out in the wild?"

"W-we were attacked by the Maximals," the tech whimpered, cringing away from the display of anger. The ant reacted strangely, jerking back as if slapped, so Scorponok pulled himself together and carried on. "S-some of our crew was stored in pods, like yours, and we had to jettison them, or th-they'd be damaged. Y-your pod fell in the jungle. Your memory circuits must've gotten scrambled in the crash, that's why you don't remember... things..."

For whatever reason, the other mech seemed to believe him, though his optics still showed some reservations. But that was okay. So long as he kept his head, he had him. He'd gotten a new recruit for Megatron, and from the way things were shaping up, a strong, loyal, hardworking one too!

He didn't even hesitate when the ant asked, "And the Queen?"

"Lord Megatron is dealing with Tarantulas," he chirped, opticband brightening.

The new Predacon picked up on his enthusiasm and brightened in response, an eager sort of look filling his optics. "Megatron?"

"You mean you don't remember your queen?" Scorponok asked, his voice carrying just a bit of playful scolding. Primus, what was this feeling? He hadn't felt this... this _giddy_ since he'd thought he aced his finals at the Academy.

And the other mech was feeding it! Those Primus-damned red optics of his darkened bashfully, and in a soft, airy voice, he asked Scorponok to describe Megatron. It was if the ant was hanging on his every word, so he could hardly be blamed if he turned around to face the ant fully and _gushed_ at him.

"Megatron is the most amazing mech you will ever lay optics on! He's a brilliant leader, charismatic as anything, he always knows what to do, and always has a plan, even if those fragging Maximals slag things up. He knows when to punish traitors, and when to reward the loyal," he grinned as he talked, half-conscious of the way the ant's optics lit up and he leaned down, nodding eagerly as he absorbed every word. The other mech wasn't just interested, he was enthralled! It was such a relief, a weight off his shoulders to get the chance to talk about Megatron like this without being ridiculed. "He's an amazing sight to see on the battlefield, too. His ability to adapt to situations is incredible..."

"He sounds so perfect," the ant sighed when Scorponok trailed off, his optics looking longingly at the tech. His fans whirred unconsciously to life, but he forced them off again. The look wasn't meant for him, it was for Megatron, and he didn't want it even if it was. Someone so easily swayed by [i] his[/i] words was far too flighty and gullible.

Still, they needed the troops, and the ant was in a vulnerable state of mind, really. There was only one mech who could cement the new Predacon's place in their ranks, and Scorponok knew just where to find him.

"Would you like to meet him?" he offered, the words leaving his vocalizer before he really had the chance to think them over, and the other mech's optics lit up to what had to be their brightest setting.

"Oh, may I?" he gasped, grabbing Scorponok's wrists excitedly. "Will you take me to him? Will you tell me more? Please, I wish to serve my Queen!"

"Yeah, sure, I'll tell you anything you wanna know," he promised, ignoring the weird feeling the ant's hands stirred in him – Frag, they were cold! With a little tug of his arm, he guided his hoverpad towards the exit of the command center, grinning from ear to ear. "I'm Scorponok, by the way."

A smile flashed over the ant's face, and he bowed his head, murmuring only a few short words in response.

"I am Inferno."


	10. 044 At Peace

"I thinks it's soooo cute dat you think you cin make th' universe a betta' place."

The irreverent voice from the doorway made Dinobot freeze, the warrior's optics temporarily widening before narrowing into angry slits of crimson light. He didn't have to turn around to visualize Rattrap, the foul vermin, temptation and repulsion rolled neatly into one beautiful, golden package, sneering at him, arms folded over his chestplates, hips tilted at an angle that was both mocking and beckoning. How any one mech managed to be so many contradictory things at once and still be above them all, the Saurian didn't know, but somehow, the rodent did it. Just thinking about it drove him mad and made him want to claw his own CPU out.

And he could. Not. Stop. Thinking about him.

i"Vermin,"/i he growled, venom dripping from every syllable as he drew the word out, imbuing it with all the distaste and resentment he could manage. "What is this, hrm, drivel that is pouring from your slag-tainted lips this time?"

"Oh? Thinkin' 'bout my lips taday, are ya?" A chuckle, amusement and arrogance making the rodent's voice lilt as he spoke. There was a small shuffle, then rhythmic pattern of swiff-clang as the diminutive spy crossed the room, the swagger of his footsteps ringing in Dinobot's audios. The Saurian cycled air through his vents, servos clenched into fists on his desk. He wanted so badly to leap from his seat and throw the tiny mech from his quarters, but he knew that would just be giving Rattrap what he wanted.

Then again, maybe that's what the rodent wanted him to think. Mind games where never his specialty, but Rattrap played them with the sort of expertise that Megatron would have found impressive. A shame that he used his talent purely for selfish purposes and taunting Predacon turncoats. Well, two could play at that game, but Dinobot really didn't feel like following the rules.

Ignoring the part of himself that was demanding he throw Rattrap, and everything that reminded him of Rattrap, violently out the window, the warrior turned his chair to face the tiny Maximal and none-too-gently grabbed him by the waist, pulling him into his lap. He expected resistance, but the tiny mech was all too happy to fold up into his lap, one arm around the warrior's neck and his head tucked beneath his chin.

Hrm, of course. He was over thinking things again. Rattrap didn't care what his reaction was, as long as he wasn't being ignored. He could still pick the rodent up and dump him outside of his room, but then the foul wretch would just pound and scratch at the door until Dinobot relented and let him back in. Better to keep him close and quiet. After all, he was small enough that Dinobot barely felt his weight in his lap, and he wouldn't interfere with his view of his laptop.

Curling one arm around Rattrap's tiny waist, Dinobot muttered to himself and turned back to his desk, reclining into his chair and settling into it more comfortably. Miraculously, Rattrap stayed quiet as Dinobot worked, running battle simulations, reviewing past encounters with the Megatron's forces, and generally preparing for the worst. The only sounds in the room was the click of the mouse, the clack of the keyboard, and the whir of three sets of fans running in tandem.

One megacycle quickly passed, then another, and another. Before Dinobot knew it, half the day had gone by without a fuss. He accomplished more than he ever expected to in so short a time, and felt as though he was running out of things to keep him occupied. Strange that Optimus had not called him with some task or another, but Megatron had just suffered a painful defeat a few days prior, and the benevolent commander must have decided his soldiers had earned a few days respite.

But what really amazed him was how still and quiet Rattrap had been. It was a rare treat indeed for the rodent to be so well behaved. Even when he was occupied with some minor repair job or looking over some data, he did not sit still or silent. He always whistled, hum, sang or talked to himself. A foot bounced in place, a servo drummed on the console, or he wiggled his hips in a little dance.

He must have been recharging, the warrior mused, shifting the rodent slightly, pulling his legs up onto his lap and moving his head to his shoulder. Rattrap whined in protest, one hand sliding to Dinobot's chest, and tilted his head up to scowl faintly at the raptor. His crimson optics were dimmer than usual, but he was still very much awake, much to the warrior's surprise.

Time passed slowly, then faded away into nothing as they sat together, optics never breaking. A strange feeling settled in Dinobot's spark, and he found himself wishing the moment would never end. He knew it would, eventually. Optimus Primal, or Rhinox, or someone would call for them, or Rattrap would open his thrice-damned mouth and say something to ruin the mood, or perhaps Megatron's pride would recover faster than usual, and he'd attack the base. Or maybe the warrior would simply run low on energy, and he'd have to put Rattrap down so he could refuel. Who knew? But the moment would never last long enough, it simply couldn't.

He sighed.

"Y'cain't save me," Rattrap murmured, pulling his head out from underneath the warrior's chin and looking up at him earnestly.

"Rodent, I do not know what exactly you are talking about," Dinobot began slowly, looking down to meet Rattrap's optics, "but if this comes from some foolishly conceived feelings of inadequacy and self-doubt, I can assure you, I hardly think you need saving, and though sometimes you anger me with your thoughtlessness, I do not wish to change you."

A wry smile tugged at the spy's lips and he let out a dry little chuckle. "Dat's a lotta pretty woids dere, Dinodip, but I don' believe ya fer a nano."

"Of course you don't," the raptor smiled, his face softening for the briefest of moments. It was funny how endearing he considered the rodent's mistrust. Of course, trust was a rare thing among Predacons, and he'd be sorely disappointed if Rattrap simply dropped his guard around him, no matter how many times they sought one another out.

Turning his gaze from the pouting mech, Dinobot saved and closed what he was working on and pulled up a bookfile. The story was familiar enough that he could have recited it from heart, but there was something he enjoyed about seeing the text on the screen, written in its strange, alien language.

"Two households, both alike in dignity, in fair Verona where we lay our scene," he murmured, nuzzling the top of Rattrap's braincase, drawing a quiet, incoherent sound from the tiny mech. "From ancient grudge break to new mutiny, where civil blood makes civil hands unclean. From forth the fatal loins of these two foes a pair of star-cross'd lovers take their life; whole misadventured piteous overthrows do with their death, bury their parents' strife."

"Sounds pretty."

"For someone whose verbal repertoire is as entrenched in pop culture as yours, I am surprised that you've not heard of Romeo and Juliet before."

"Poetry's considered pop culture?"

Dinobot chuckled. "Where I am from, yes, it is. Tis the prerogative of a warrior to express himself in battle, and such emphatic outpouring of one's spark can not be chronicled lightly. The words must flow across the screen as a blade doth dance from foe to foe, leaving behind naught but bloody carnage in its wake."

"Sweet Primus. You must write the craziest mission reports."

"I have been told that I am far more verbose than most commanders feel necessary," the raptor agreed, shrugging one shoulder.

"Yanno, if ya used smaller woids, more people might undastand what'cher sayin'."

"Are you admitting ignorance?"

"I admit nothin'," the rat smirked, squirming around as if he was trying to burrow into Dinobot's chest. It made the warrior laugh softly and wrap both arms around the rodent's slim form, enveloping him completely. A few quiet, content moments passed, then Rattrap felt the need to break the silence.

"So, is dere any more ta dat Romeo an' Juliet poem thing, or wazzat it?"

"Would you like to hear more?" Dinobot asked slowly, surprised and pleased by the question.

"Well, I figyah, if we're gonna be sharin' a berth regularly, I might as well learn a ilittle bit/i 'bout'cher hobbies an' what not. An' besides," he added, bashfully looking down and twiddling his fingers, "I kinda like lissenin' t'ya talk."

"Hrm, I suppose that, so long as there is nothing better to do, that I might indulge you, my poorly educated companion," the warrior smirked, sinking just a bit deeper into his chair as a puff of warm air huffed over his neck.

"Edjicated nothin', Lizardlips. Just shut up 'n read."


End file.
